


A Turn of Form

by onionbcy



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel)
Genre: Calming a Beast, F/M, Kicking an old man's ass, Loud Church Bells, Other, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 06:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onionbcy/pseuds/onionbcy
Summary: What is it about the horrors of war that attracts the merciless and merciful?( A slow-building, slightly canon-divergent take on the story of Fate/Zero. OC driven. )The war in Fuyuki was one regarded as a horror by some, a success by others, and a joy by a single figure. For them, it was all.





	A Turn of Form

Figures and faces he’d seen once before greet Kirei as Sunday bells ring. 

Though years aged, he notes people from his youth that once greeted him, as his father, standing at the front, recites holy scriptures he’s spoken thousands of times before.

Maritza, an elderly woman once in her prime who now seems addled by even the smallest  spring breeze through the church’s interior, sits near the front, closest to his father. Carmelo, the youngest son of a man whose funeral service had been most recently performed sits by the back - a wandering gaze void of tears that often falls upon Kirei diverts once before as he matches his stare. By the middle rests tirelessly a family of four, a mother and her children, whose names he oft remembers but faces he recognizes. And a man, a baker by the name of Luca, who sits by the left, nearest to the confessional.

A few foreign faces remain among the hive of recognition.

He attends himself to muscle memory as the service continues. Each lip is given the body of Christ, each throat given his blood. The foreign faces become easily recognizable from up close. A man in his late fifties, a woman in her mid twenties, and a teenager who attended on his own in Kirei’s eyes. They do not remark on the bizarre stigmata inscribed on his hand a day before. None question it, only a few note it. Watchful eyes are kept to a minimal yet a stinging in the back of his head tells him that one does not extinguish itself.

“Kirei,” His father’s voice, absent of questioning and more along the level of assertion, arises as figures shuffle out of the church’s pews and doors. “Have you packed your things for your trip to Fuyuki?”

“Yes.” It’s a inquiry that he recognizes as being worth more than is given at face value. Which each figure that leaves its seat, Kirei takes to moving through the Church’s pews. “I should be prepared to leave on the soonest possible day,” he remarks, placing a dropped pamphlet back in its appropriate holder. “Is that all you wished to ask?”

“I have some business to attend to.” A fleeting figure, the teenager Kirei made note of earlier, catches his father’s attention. With a wave of his hand, he bids the child farewell before returning his attention to his son. “Would you take to Confession in my place?”

“Of course,” Another pamphlet is fixed in its holder and a leftover scarf is draped over his forearm to later place in lost articles. “Is that all?” A bible, left on its seat, is placed in the pew’s cubby and he turns his eyes to his father’s watchful stare as he thumbs over his cassock to fix a small crease.

“Yes.” Risei’s face, aged from years of service, wrinkles as his lips give way to a smile that nearly reaches his eyes. “It’ll be a memory to remind you of your time spent here when you were younger. Do treat them well.”

“Of course,” This would not be a memory he would keep as he left Italy. “I would never think otherwise.”

It is on that that his father takes his leave. The remaining faces that had either not left the Church or awaited confession sit in peace as he places the few discarded pieces of clothing that he had gathered in a nearby room. They do not look up as he walks by and neither does he look down.

Those in attendance to Confessional, kept calm by the spring’s breeze, speak quaint sins.

Carmelo, who walks like a man who bears no burden, does not appear before Kirei the same man that he was during service. Their interaction, though kept short, is an insightful one that Kirei can only care to remember for the moment.

He tells him of worrying that he may appear ungrateful for the sorrow around him. That his father’s death, despite having been such a recent event, isn’t one that he feels dragging at his heels as he walks. Carmelo’s melancholy is a maldiscerned one. Kirei simply responds that sorrow is something that is measured by the person and not by those around him. The silence is bare, kept only by the sound of crickets on wind and the rustling of Carmelo’s clothing as he wipes at his eyes.

Carmelo departs not a minute after. Kirei can see Carmelo’s tears streak down his cheeks as he leaves. At that, the priest is pleased. Another spring breeze makes its way through the church’s open door and into the Confessional. He adjusts the fabric of his collar as another body fills the space that was once left empty by Carmelo’s departure a half hour later.

The deep voice that arises is one Kirei notes as being that of the baker who, despite his relative positioning to their current seating, seemed to have taken to prayer in the brief time between the end of the service and his arrival.

Despite his baritone inflection, Luca’s sins are as soft as his manner of speaking.

He tells of regret in having missed his sister’s wedding. That her estrangement from the family is one that his heart can not take to seeing in person. He asks Kirei for forgiveness, that his sins may be relieved so that he no longer has to bear the idea of his nieces and nephews with such long faces. That the Lord forgive him for forsaking blood.

Kirei, in thinking of his father’s words, gives Luca the apology he seeks. He tells him that blood, despite being of such vital existence, is not what bounds one to their purpose in this world. He tells him that the Lord understands the reason why he suffers and that he forgives him for burdening himself so.

Luca leaves after a thank you and the Church bells ring with announcement after another hour. Another body shuffles into Confessional a few moments later. A face of which Kirei does not recognize.

“Hello,” The voice that greets him is soft, yet melodic. The sound of crickets settles with another breeze. “I - I... wouldn’t happen to be taking up your time, w -- would I?”

“Of course not.” He finds it an odd question yet continues, nonetheless. “What do you wish to confess?”

“I…” There is silence. As with each passing attendant, they think to themselves and Kirei alone, to await their sins. Yet her silence is one quickly ended, the face that looks up at him through the holes of the booth is dusted with freckles - dark skin with brown eyes that contrasted the last two faces he had seen. “I do not know if what I s - speak is a sin,” She smiles and Kirei in his intrigue, nearly raises a brow had he been curious enough. “I simply wish to speak, is all.”

“Do as you so wish.”

“Thank you,” She stares absent up towards the wooden walls of the Confessional, hands resting gently upon her lap. “I’ve b - been neglecting my duties, you see…” Kirei can’t help but space through her words, yet unflinching is the expression upon his face. “I’m a guardian, a protector and yet… I’ve f - failed to do the very thing that I have told myself I must do.”

“And why do you believe you have failed?”

“Because all those under my wing have left this world.”

“By your hands?” At that, she seems nearly taken aback. Parted lips read an expression of shock or awe and she takes a moment to consider his words. Kirei continues, seeing her lips tightly shut in waiting. “If you deem your worth as a guardian to be the protection of those you care for past their death, then you will find nothing but disappointment in not following them into Heaven.”

“Then h - how will I know if I have made them happy?”

“You must trust that you have made them happy in life and given them passage to the gates of Heaven itself,” Her expression reads as unknowable and her smile in revelation, as bright as it holds, is unperceivable as well. Kirei can’t help but dislike that unknown. “God will forgive you for your missteps along the way if you pray for his forgiveness.”

“Will he listen to someone like me?” The woman presses, turning to look at Kirei.

“If you pray with true conviction, then he will.”

“You almost s - sound positive, Father,” At that, she chuckles. The sound of moving footsteps by the church doors gathers her attention, she stares for a few moments before turning back. Despite the interruption, she smiles still. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to a priest who sounded so certain while he spoke.”  
  
“One’s belief in God can often allow them the confidence they need.”

“You must truly b - believe in God then.”

“I do.” He does not know why it is that he finds himself revealing such a thing. Though inconspicuous and of little matter, his words seem to affirm in the woman a comfort that she so desired. With a hum, she rises from the Confessional’s seat - gently smoothing the linen of her dress.

“Thank you for this, Father,” she say, bending at the waist in a minimal bow. “Truly.”

“There’s no need to thank me.”

“No, I f - feel as I must,” With a step, she brought herself to the door, hand hovering over the handle as if there were words she was yet to speak. A breeze slips through as she opens it, stopping mid-way before she would make her exit. “I hope that our next meeting can be as insightful as this one.”

“As do I.”

She makes no noise as she leaves. The Confessional’s door closes shut with a soft click, the sound of crickets ebbs towards ambiance when her footsteps carry her to the door and Kirei is left, pondering for a simple moment.

His flight to Fuyuki awaited him. There would be no next time.


End file.
